Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Sidewalk Rage

Midtown is normally a very busy section of New York City but it gets exponentially more crowded during the holiday season when, it seems, entire populations of Midwestern and Southern states decamp to Manhattan to visit Rockefeller Center and Radio City Music Hall. These two landmarks stand between my office and the subway station that ferries me to and from work every day. So for two months, twice a day, I have to weave through the throngs of people who have come to gape at the unsuspecting 80-foot Spruce cut down in its twilight years for our general enjoyment. Like slow moving oil tankers, these tourists.

I’m not normally an angry person but lately I’ve found myself succumbing to sidewalk rage, a pattern of behavior brought on by thick crowds, symptoms of which include overaggressive speedwalking, elbowing, pushing, and loud ahem-ing at the people that stand in my way. I wrote the following text to my friend Jessica during high noon of PMS week, a time of the month that my boyfriend and I have come to refer to as The Zone of Pain.

Me: Omg, I hate plowing through the Rockefeller Center and Radio City tourists every day. I honestly just want to tackle every one of them from behind, grab their heads in my hands and bash them into the concrete.

No joke - some lady swung a bag at me and hit me last night outside Radio City, because she was aiming for the guy in front of me who supposedly pushed her. I turned around, screamed and almost spontaneously disemboweled her on the sidewalk, but my better senses prevailed, unfortunately. I would have spent a life in jail replaying the moment in my head, completely satisfied and self-assured that the human race is better that way.

I feel your pain. I get the overwhelming joy of working at the corner of 42nd & Broadway (in the legitimate sense) so coming and going to and from the office is a tactical exercise at least twice a day every day.

Fortunately I'm bigger than most of the tourists and I can shoulder my way through the crowds without them having the balls to say anything to me. Just another benefit of going to the gym in this town . . .

call me a pollyanna but i find myself giving directions to the ones holding a maps upside down on street corners. i ask 'are you looking for the tree?' and then i tell them to cut through the chase or aol building to 51st street. i imagine they go home in their team sweatshirts and lightwashed tapered jeans and tell everyone how nice real native manhattanites (like me!) are. it helps to know where build-a-bear and american girl place are located for extra points.